Guardian Angel
by Write.My.Dreams
Summary: One shot and suddenly it seemed that their worlds were about to collide.  Thing is, neither knew that they were exactly what the other was looking for.  This is an AU Malec previously titled Guarding Glamour.


A/N: No I'm not dead to any of you that have been waiting for this. I just had a really stressful summer when things kept happening that I could in no way predict or control. Then when I was finally getting my muse back one of my closest friends said something about my writing which really just made me lose all confidence in myself. Needless to say, it's taken a couple of months to try and get back in the grove. Here's my first attempt at writing since, god, probably about May. Hope you enjoy.

Warning: This AU is going to have a mature rating due to language and some sexual content that will come in later (I think much later actually) chapters. It will also contain boy/boy interactions and highly offensive language. I do not support any of the language that you read but do need to have it in order to accurately portray the characters. If this makes you uncomfortable I suggest you stop reading since that is not my intent in any way.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of the characters in it. This story is just something that my twisted mind decided I needed to borrow Cassandra Clare's characters for.

**Guarding Glamour**

**Prologue:**

His was the only body in a crowd of hundreds that wasn't moving in some way, dancing to the beat of the thumping bass, the lyrics blasted at them over the loudspeaker. His eyes were dark, pitch black with hate, lip curled back in the disgust he felt just from watching the faggot perform.

God, how could all of these people be so blind as to say that this freak of nature was talented? That his concerts were worth attending much less the ridiculous cost of the ticket, even the sold out seats.

They shouldn't be screaming themselves hoarse as that faggot sang about strutting his gay ass around the stage, smiling in a way that was a dead giveaway to his sexuality at his four eyed bass player. In no way did he believe the recent magazine article that said those two were just close friends; they were screwing behind the scenes. If there was something that he hated more than one faggot, it was when there were two.

The freakishness needed to come to an end, if he had to be the one to do it, then so be it. Some could say it was his calling in this life, his destiny. And who was he to try and deny it?

The weight of the handgun he carried was a reassuring presence at his side, hidden away under his leather jacket within easy reaching distance. It had been quite tricky to sneak past security, but when one had the connections that he did…well, that faggot's reign was soon to be coming to an end.

He told himself that the drop of sweat trickling down his brow was from the oppressive heat of so many bodies in motion in such a confined space, not from his nerves at what he was determined to do. He couldn't possibly be nervous, not when that faggot was still performing on the stage. No one would even notice when he drew the weapon free from his coat, they were all so brainwashed by his freakiness that they hardly dared to look away from the stage.

Who was he after all? No one. One of the many nobodies standing in the crowd that had been deluded enough to pay for this cock-lover's joke of a concert. No one cared if he was there or not. Even the few security guards he had made sure to note were more concerned with scanning the crowd as a whole not even noting that he was one of the few that weren't making a disgrace of themselves jumping around to the lyrics.

And they should have. It was that simple. Ever since he had been a small child his father had drilled him in the ways of survival. Obviously, Magnus Bane could have used the same lessons and he was more than willing to be the one to teach him.

Lesson one: always be aware of your surroundings and the dangers they may pose.

Magnus couldn't help but love everything about it. He could eat, sleep, and breathe performing. It was one of the only times when he ever really felt as if his body was truly alive, that he had somehow, so luckily stumbled across his true calling in life; something not many could actually claim.

When he was on that stage there was something that _made__him__come__alive_. It wasn't something he could explain, or something a bystander could even really see; unless they happened to be looking for it. But the words of the songs, _his_songs ones that he had poured his heart into while writing them, made his blood sing along with his voice, the pounding of the music mirroring the pounding of his heart.

The stage was his kingdom, and Magnus was well aware that he ruled it. His loyal fans, his subjects, felt what he felt when he sang to them. When he wanted them hyped, they were, if he wanted them wistfully in love, they were. All it took was his voice and he had the power to change what somebody was _feeling_. Hell, it was like reading a crappy Stephanie Meyers novel; get him a set of fangs and a whiny girlfriend and he could play the head vamp instead of the weird ass brother with sentimental powers. It wasn't like he didn't sparkle anyway.

This was real though, this was now. And when this show ended and they left, his high from the performance dissipating with his fans, he could be reassured that it would be him that they would seek to listen to on the radio, him that they would talk about come tomorrow. His name would go on, his own brief blip of immortality finally given to him.

It was more than Magnus had ever thought safe to ask for.

Invigorated from the energy that he always got while performing, he belted out the lyrics to "Strut", putting a little bit of oomph into his own walk, perhaps even overdoing his own strut to emphasize the lyrics. Maybe it was too much, but he didn't think so.

Besides, let it never be said that Magnus Bane didn't give 110% of himself in a performance.

He wouldn't trade this for anything, wouldn't rather be anywhere than up there on that stage with the rest of his band, his long time friend Simon Lewis on the bass included, would've given anything to be there if he wasn't already.

It was the perfect for him. Somewhere he could dress how he wanted and no one could look down on him for, could be who he wanted and there were plenty of guys lined up, willing to go home with him each night.

Plain and simple he belonged there…the sudden piercing crack of a gunshot and then flare up of pain shooting through his body didn't.

All he needed was a clear shot. One shot where he could be sure that he would actually hit his target and not miss. Missing was not an option to him. If he missed they would know what he was trying to do, they would make to stop him, which was something he couldn't allow.

They didn't see that it would be better this way with one less disgusting faggot crawling the streets of New York, convincing others that it was alright to be this way. It wasn't!

Now all he needed was for Bane to move his fagot ass to front and center of the stage, easily the best place for him to get off a nice clean shot and then high tail it out of there like a pack of demons from hell themselves were after him. It was a pity, but there was no way that he would be able to stay and watch the wonderful result, not unless he wanted to risk the chance of prison time.

And let's be real, other freaks like Bane were locked up and he was far too good looking for his own good.

He watched the stage intently, not like the followers around him that were having a good time because of the performance, but enjoying himself and what he was about to do all the same. All he needed was that one chance.

And wait…here it was, he was sure of it. The faggot's mouth finally shut and the last few chords of the song began to diminish into the air. Lazily waving at his audience (how dare he act like he was too good for them) Bane slowly waltzed his way up to the center of the stage, smiling smugly like he owned the goddamned place and they should consider themselves lucky to even be there.

That freak was going to pay. He would make sure of it.

His hand was moving before he had fully thought of it, tugging the weapon free of its hiding place. No one noticed absorbed as they were with the performance and what exactly the freak might be planning to say before he started in on his next song. They all watched the stage like faithful followers with eyes only for the cocksucker and not taking note of their surroundings. Hell, the only one that had paid the slightest bit of attention to anyone but the stage was the idiot that had dared to bump into his with their dancing. His glare had told them to back off and pay better attention to where they were.

Guess they hadn't learned that lesson either.

The time was now or never. He held the gun up in a two handed grip to make sure that it was steady, not wanting to risk his shot going awry when it would already have to be quick; he didn't know how long the fag would stay in one place or when someone would notice the weapon.

He lined the muzzle up with his target, took a deep breath, and then pulled the trigger, the sudden crack startling the crowd before things really started to get hectic. Voices shouting over one another, bodies shoving each other but definitely not as the fun of a No, this was pure terror induced.

No one knew where the shot had come from except for one person who was calmly making his way out of the stadium, a smug smile on his face. All they knew was that the shot had rang out and then their idol had fallen on the stage; dead or alive, it was yet to be determined.

And thus came the day that Sebastian Morgenstern shot Magnus Bane.

Alec Lightwood stepped into his dorm room at the Idris Bodyguard Academy or IBA, towel drying his messy hair. He wouldn't admit it, but he felt exhausted from their recent little training bout and even the hot shower he had just taken in hopes of soothing his muscles wasn't helping very much.

His adopted brother, Jace had definitely not gone easy on him in their sparring match for Hands On Defense class, not like he thought he would, though. Anyone else and he might've felt humiliated that he had his ass handed to him by a mere nineteen year old when he himself would be twenty one in a few months and should therefore be better according to the rest of his classmates.

But he couldn't when it came to Jace. His golden haired brother had to be the best at everything he did and so Alec had gotten used to getting his ass kicked by Jace years ago. It was something he accepted with a pinch of salt now.

Of course, that didn't mean Jace had to take the practice matches they had with themselves every Monday and Wednesday quite so seriously. He was sure as he stretched his back and then shoulders that he would be sporting bruises there for at least the next week.

He would have the dorm room to himself for the next few hours while Jace was out with his still in high school girlfriend Clary (a friend of their sister, Isabelle, that no one would have expected). So with an exhausted sigh, he changed into a pair of sweats and light t-shirt that would be comfortable enough to nap in. Times like now were rare when the recruits had enough free time to just relax and even rarer when Alec didn't have his brother there to make sure that they did anything but. Alec was definitely not going to waste his.

He had just laid down in his bed with the hope that his body would be less sore upon waking when his phone buzzed from atop the small nightstand he had set it on earlier. With moving as little as possible, he reached to where it lay, snatching it up and glancing at the lit up screen.

_Isabelle_.

Briefly he contemplated letting it continue to ring, after all his sister could leave him a voicemail if she really had something important to say. But then he quickly dismissed that idea. They hardly saw each other anymore, except the few times when he and Jace had enough of a break to come home on the weekend without fear that they might fall behind on their studies.

If he chose to ignore her call now, it would be ignoring one of the few times they might have to actually talk with each other. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he missed hearing her gush on to him about her latest conquest at her high school (even if he didn't want to have the vivid details she would make sure to put just to embarrass him) or how he wouldn't know what good fashion was even if a tasteful shirt came up to him and smacked him across the face before demanding that it be worn.

All in all, he missed his younger sister and would never willingly miss her call.

"Hello?" He answered after hitting the button and bringing the device up to his ear. He half expected her to start in on him for taking so long to answer his damn phone.

He was not expecting what he heard on the other end, however.

"_Oh my god, Alec! Turn on the news! Oh my god, I can't believe it! It's just not possible!"_

"Wait, slow down a second, Izzy, what's not possible?" He asked, having absolutely no clue as to what could have upset his sister so much.

"_The news, Alec, turn on the news! I can't believe it! Magnus Bane was shot!"_

"Magnus who?" He asked as he crossed the room to pick up the remote from where it had been tossed on Jace's bed and then switched on the small television that they were permitted to have in their dorm rooms.

"_You gotta be kidding me. Bane, Alec, Magnus Bane! World famous singer. Course you would know that if you actually kept up with pop culture. Now turn on the news!"_

"Um…which one Isabelle, you know there's like a dozen—"

"_Any, Alec, it's world news!"_

And Alec saw that it was indeed.

It didn't seem to matter which of the channels he had on, they all were talking about what seemed to be the biggest news of that century, little blips of that evenings headlines running across the bottom of the screen so that any newcomers could catch up quickly. And the one thing that they all featured were that, as Isabelle had said, Magnus Bane had been shot.

There was silence on both ends of the line as Isabelle gave him a chance to get caught up with what she had been trying to tell him. Apparently during one of the many concerts that he had been giving, this one right here in New York City, the singer's hometown, a shot had struck out and the singer had crumpled to the ground almost immediately afterward, all of this caught on footage.

No suspects had been found. In the resulting chaos immediately following the shot they had made their escape and so far the police that had been called to the scene hadn't found any possible suspects, but would continue to investigate any lead that they came upon. Bystanders were asked to come forward if they had seen anything that seemed the least bit out of the ordinary since so far they had nothing to go off of.

As for the welfare of Magnus Bane himself, it remained unknown as well. Whether that was because it truly wasn't known how he fared or because they thought it was best to not disclose that information yet to the public since the shooter was still out there armed and dangerous and possibly wanting to finish the job, they didn't say.

However, at the end of the broadcast a message flashed across the screen for a hotline that the police had set up for any information regarding the shooting, asking for anyone with any knowledge at all to come forward and call the number where they would immediately be put into touch with one of the officers on the case.

"_See, Alec? I told you."_

"Yeah, Izzy. I saw it. Did they say why it happened?" He asked, vaguely curious as to how someone was able to sneak in a place with maximum security and as many people as the concert would have had with a gun on them in the first place. If he was this Bane guy he would rethinking how many security guards he had at any future concerts and double checking the credentials on each as well.

"_Does__it__really__matter?.__"_ His sister's voice said from the other end of the phone.

He didn't bother with an answer, because frankly, no it didn't matter. All that mattered was that some innocent person had been shot because there was one more psychopath out there in the world. It only served to harden his resolve to see out his bodyguard training even if there were more days like this one where he left class bruised and exhausted, because maybe one day he could stop an event like this one from taking place.

"I gotta go, Izzy." He said instead, much to her disappointment. She knew that any phone calls they usually had were pretty short if he wanted to keep up with his hectic schedule. "If I want to get something for dinner I better get it now before the others eat everything."

He didn't even bother with thinking about trying to get a nap in now. He was up, the footage he had just seen disturbing him enough that he knew he wouldn't be able to nap now even if he tried.

"_Alright._" She said, and yes there was disappointment there, though she thankfully didn't dwell on that fact. _"__I__'__ll__call__you__again__if__I__here__anything__else.__"_

"Thanks." He said halfheartedly, not quite seeing the point of it since he didn't see how it was going to affect him before ending the call. After all, Magnus Bane was this big time famous singer even if Alec had never heard of him before that day (didn't actually mean much since he couldn't tell you a single band off the top forty either) and Alec was just a bodyguard in training. But it meant Isabelle ad another reason to call, that great for her.

He didn't know that his life was about to spiral out of control, taking turns that he never would have dared to imagine.

_TBC…_

A/N: Last A/N I promise. Did you guys like it so far? If you did I will continue to update but if not then I'll probably just write it for my own amusement. I'm trying to write something that hasn't been done a thousand times (cough, high school, cough) but I don't know if I've quite achieved that. If you guys actually liked this I will update but I make no promises about quick updates. I'm in my second year of college and my advisor is obsessed on making my life extremely hard this year.

Until next time!


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